


Creature of grief and dust and bitter longings

by MinervaMcGonagall



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29467491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinervaMcGonagall/pseuds/MinervaMcGonagall
Summary: An alternative aftermath to ALIE's reign, post-S3. Abby is alone, in prison.
Relationships: Abby Griffin/Marcus Kane
Kudos: 2





	Creature of grief and dust and bitter longings

She was a creature of grief and dust and bitter longings. There was an empty place inside her where her heart was once.

The hay beneath her was dry and dark. The small windows allowed little light to fall into the cell, and where it fell, it fell with a soulless thud. The tentative rays touched a part of her jacket, where it covered the left side of her torso and her arm, but the light didn’t manage to touch her.

Her eyes were dark brown, but unseeing. Glazed over, almost if she already was dead, a corpse, sitting up in her big future tomb. Sometimes, the world shrunk to only this cell, the outside and the people in it non-existent, and in those moments Abby thought she could die knowing it would lead to peace.

Then Clarke appeared in front of her inner eye. It was always her daughter. Clarke, Clarke, Clarke, whose mere existence was the only reason she didn’t try to wiggle out of her cuffs - breaking her wrists in the process, as if she’d care at this point - and crawl over to the metal entrance to slide the sensitive skin of her arms along the sharp edges.

She’d feel little more than she did right now. The pain would be numbed by the loud silence in her mind.

Perhaps,  _ silence _ wasn’t the right word. Abby was pretty sure her thoughts were screaming, so loud to the point of deadening her. Her mind was blaring, her veins yet silent, exhausted by the effort it took to express so much agony without saying anything out loud.

At times, when she thought of Clarke and her thoughts managed to break a dam inside her, she cried. She wept. She sobbed, not caring there were guards stationed in front of her cell, able to hear her every plea for mercy. Because when she let loose, she did it with  _ gusto _ . Speaking to herself, desperate to behave like a ghost, threatening to haunt these walls forevermore.

Clarke was the reason she let loose, Clarke was the reason she couldn’t let go. Not yet.

It tore at something inside Abby. She knew her daughter wasn’t responsible for this kind of torture, but, sitting here with nothing but air to talk to, she wished that would be the case outside this cell as well. Just so she wouldn’t hurt anybody when - no, she couldn’t think like that, too tempting, too easy, no,  _ if _ \- she eventually let go. Her daughter was the only thing keeping her halfway tethered to this earth.

It was perhaps this which caused her misery - not knowing if staying tethered was good… or bad.

It certainly felt bad enough, but Abby knew this was a selfish train of thought. She couldn’t steal the desperately needed doctor from any injured in need, couldn’t do this to anybody, the very thing she’d been thinking about for several days now.

Had it been one of the reasons she’d been locked up? No, yes, maybe… Her memory was slipping, she felt like she was going mad, maybe she was letting herself, maybe she _wanted_ _this_ \- but she started to dig nevertheless.

She remembered assaulting Thelonious. Yes, that definitely had been a thing that had gotten her here. Was there more? Why, why, why had she done it…

_ She cautiously dipped at the blood on a woman’s forehead with a pad, feeling the familiar weight of her medical kit leaning on her foot. After everybody had woken up, injuries were a common thing - ALIE’s reign had been short but intense, filled with ruby blood and empty eyes. Abby had taken it upon herself to treat as many as she could, to make up for- _

_ She just knew that if she laid down at some point, she wouldn’t be able to get up again. _

_ As soon as she was done, she stood up, letting her gaze wander, and that was when she saw him. Red filled her vision, blood rushing through her ears and she knew Marcus- Marcus would have told her to- He would have- _

_ That was the moment she forgot the kit at her side and the world around her and rushed to Thelonious Jaha, the fastest she’d ever gone without running, to punch him square in the jaw. _

_ You bastard!” _

_ Marcus would have been there. But he wasn’t. _


End file.
